


A Case Worth Taking

by Cl0udH1gh0ver10rd0fA11



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b baker st, Comments and kudos help a ton!, F/M, Hopefully it will make sense, I'm a sucker for constructive criticism, Implied Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, John is also a little oblivious, Original reader character, Reader is creative, Reader's personal case, Relationship(s), Remember, Romance, Series Insert, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock is hot, Sherlock is oblivious, Sherlock's Violin, Sherlocks eyes tho, Slow Burn, So am I but not the point, but thats not till later, how does one tag, i can't tag, john is a sweetheart, mostly the comments tho, reader is a cutie, reader is a famous writer/artist, second attempt at this fic, slow burning is good burning, tagging, there is an actual plot in here somewhere I swear, uhhh, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cl0udH1gh0ver10rd0fA11/pseuds/Cl0udH1gh0ver10rd0fA11
Summary: Famous reader presents the Great Sherlock Holmes with a case of her own. they become closer than anticipated and things may get a little more creative around 221 baker street than before.Will their relationship be strictly business casual?Or will the consulting detective join the media in admiring this Lady of the Arts.





	1. Moments; An artist's introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! this is my work in progress writing practice. comments and constructive criticism are most welcome!  
yes I am aware its short, I promise they get longer from here.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a moment in time. 

No one thought anything of it, No one except you two. You were itching for some ancient inspiration, not finding success here. He was in the middle of a case on the brink of another revelation. You both happened to be in the entrance of the National Antiquities Museum when you bumped into each other. Two passing strangers. For a moment neither of you did anything. But, all at once, time stopped. You stared intently into the stranger’s eyes. You recognized him. The media’s current favorite detective, that being the great Sherlock Holmes. He returned your deep stare with a calculating glance of his own.

But that was it.

That was the moment.

There was a tug in your chest when you turned to leave. You found inspiration after all, though perhaps you would be using more color than you expected for your next painting. You later displayed a piece in a local gallery titled “A Glance of Genius” featuring bright and gentle blues, greens and greys. It was bought days later by an anonymous customer. 

As Sherlock turned away, something in his mind clicked regarding his case. He stopped a second to turn back to give you another look, perhaps catch on to why something suddenly made sense. But when the detective turned to find you, there wasn’t a trace of you left. He later solved that case. Deemed “The Blind Banker in his flatmate John Watson’s blog retelling.

But you didn’t meet each other again, nor did either of you plan to. 

**_**TRAGEDY STRIKES_** _, Beloved Lady of the Arts Found dead with her final work in hand.**_

John Watson read in the headline of his paper one afternoon. He and the infamous Sherlock Holmes had just wrapped up another case. It wasn’t of the caliber of the Blind Banker, or his first case, A Study in Pink, but all the same, it was a long and tiring case. Despite this, the detective was restless, itching for another test of wits that only a good mystery or some stashed drug could scratch. The aforementioned Holmes was presently composing on his violin. Short bursts of note, and then long pauses filled 221b Baker St. That was of course until one silent spell was filled with mutterings coming from downstairs. Following this, Mrs. Hudson prattled up to poke her head in the door. 

Her gentle older voice rang out, “Sorry to intrude, but do you have a visitor. She says she has a case for you boys.” She opened the door to step in and let enter another figure. You were clad in [vivid/monochrome] sunset colors, with sunglasses and a blue summer cap hiding your face. Nothing Big or outgoing, but the simple elegance of your attire shone like the sunset it represented. For someone as nervous as you were, you held a powerful air about you.

John turned to take a look at you, and he was taken aback by the sight of you. He stood, Striding over with a smile he shook your hand. 

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor Watson. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” He remarked shyly while he eyed you over. All the while, Sherlock was still composing over this new sound. For someone so eager for a new case, he didn’t seem to jump too fast when one walked into his flat. Mrs. Hudson interjected. “D’you remember that wonderful woman author I told you I met at a signing event last month?” 

“The one with the tv show or the one who wrote stories for paintings?”Inquired Watson.

“Both.” You and the previously silent detective said in unison. This causing you to raise your shaded gaze to him. He stared back from across the room. Removing your glasses and hat, you smiled. His frigid, observant gaze fell over you. So did John’s look of utter disbelief. You were the woman he had just read about and seen in the paper — the late Lady of the Arts.

‘I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself here. I’m {y/f/n} {Y/l/n}. And I believe I have a case for you.”

It seemed you finally held the Consulting detective’s Attention.

***


	2. Moments; The Artist's Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader persuades Sherlock to take her unique case.
> 
> But will it really work even after she spills some tea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! this is my work in progress writing practice. comments and constructive criticism are most welcome!
> 
> <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sherlock had deduced, the deceased Lady of the Arts was there in his living room. But for a moment, it appeared as though he couldn’t read past your base detail. The usual, recent endeavors.

But that was all he could read. However If he let on to such facts, you couldn’t tell. 

You looked up at him with surprised [Y/E/C] eyes. As his gaze bore down on you. You gave him something short of an awkward smile. “Hello Mr. Holmes.” he took a silent minute to look at you. It was quiet and uncomfortable. But you couldn’t forget those sunning eyes of his.

It felt like an eternity before Sherlock finally broke the silence between your battle of gazes. “Awfully colorful for a corpse Ms. [y/l/n]” 

You let slip a breathy chuckle. “I didn’t know the great Sherlock Holmes had a sense of humor.”

“I meant your clothes. Not exactly the attire one would wear when avoiding attention.”

“Oh.” You gave him an uneasy smile though his wit was rather entertaining. 

“Well, I suppose even the dead can be fashionable.” Dr. Watson smiled at this, but Sherlock acted as though he hadn’t heard you and began listing off more questions. 

“So then what is it exactly you came here for, Ms. {y/l/n}? Kill yourself and the publicity to your living being then what? And for what reason? Obviously, it wasn’t to keep the eye off yourself. Your attire is louder than an orchestra.”

"I thought her outfit was rather fetching" Mrs. Hudson murmered before slipping away. John nodded in agreement.

“Obviously?” You wondered aloud. 

Watson, once retrieving you a seat sat in his armchair.

“Well, It isn’t as complex as that.” You declared, shifting your gaze to the floor. “You see, I’ve come here to ask you to solve my murder. 

You now had the whole room’s attention. Sherlock cocked his head to the side to give you another stare down. He walked to his armchair. “Elaborate” He urged, his in-depth and thoughtful look never leaving you. 

“I have a sort of stand-in, a doppelganger if you will. She keeps my public face when I need to get away or de-stress.” you looked up at the Baker St. Boys. “I need you to solve the murder of my stand-in… I need to know who wanted me dead and if they still hunt me. The police are too dense to solve this. They’ve already blamed it on nonexistent drug abuse.” 

You’re surprised that Sherlock had let you speak so long, but when you finished, you realized you were shaking like a leaf. Every look in the room was that of sympathy, to some degree or another. Even Sherlock looked on with pity, which from what you understood of the man, was absolutely unheard of. You tried to pull yourself together. 

Everything was catching Sherlock off guard about you. He'd have hardly guessed you were a celebrity of any kind had it not been pointed out. And then how you so quickly proved him wrong, his initial attempt to keep up his appearance, inquiring of your clothes. Shut down the instance you spoke. Then a bizarre sob story that would give the paparazzi a field day. For a moment, he believed it all. But a thought came to mind that explained it all away. Of course.

“Publicity stunts are for amateurs.” He stood. “No, thank you.”

Finally straightened out it was his turn to catch you off guard. “Publi- What?! Mr. Holmes, please reconsider.”

“Sherlock-” John scolded. But the detective retaliated.

“A lack of popularity or a generally small audience, a doppelganger, and a bit of money. Instead of going straight to the media or the police with a few cameras, you came here, begging for my help. Headlines read ‘Detective Sherlock Holmes finds presumed dead celebrity?’ The media explodes with theories and false stories. Instant exposure. Publicity stunt. Good day!” Sherlock turned his desk to flip through papers. 

Suddenly, you were torn aback. Now you also stood, as he did his best to ignore you. Currently, you were working yourself up. What do you say to that? It’s not true, but would anyone believe you? 

That is when, without thought, you snapped and yelled. What you exclaimed next even you couldn’t believe you said. After calling out the witty detective, you openly spilled the very secret you’ve been keeping quiet for all these years. How could you betray her so quickly? Even in death? Words of comfort reached you from John, but it was utter white noise for a few moments.

You collapsed back down, taking a moment to breathe and to ground yourself. “I just want to know why she…why I had to perish, Mr. Holmes. So desperately.” 

Whom you just mentioned, definitely caught the boy’s attention. Both John and Sherlock wandered back to their respective chairs, silently. Their confused silence urged you to continue.

“I’m not asking much gentlemen. I would like, when the police arrive, for your opinion on the case that you solve it. Keeping my status of living under wraps would be a given addition. Killers are easier caught when off their guard. I can remain a consistent source of information if need be.”

John turned to Sherlock, and his mind was pretty made up. But the consulting detective still wasn’t entirely satisfied.

“And what of all your, publicly sensitive information, Ms.{Y/l/n}? What makes you so certain I’ll keep it a secret?”

Fully recomposed you huffed. “Honestly, Mr. Holmes, I don’t know. All I know are simple facts.”

“Which would be…?” John interjected, not quite picking up what you were suggesting.

“I need help, and I am not hurting for money. You are the help I could use, and more or less could use said resources in some way I’m certain. And frankly, I would be downright disappointed if you did Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock looked as if he might protest, but one hard look from Dr. Watson told the detective otherwise. 

John and Sherlock declared, almost in unison;

“We’ll take the case.”

They glanced at each other again before returning the respective looks of confidence and relief your way. 

Relief also washed over your features. Like a switch, your demeanor changed completely. You were utterly confusing Sherlock yet again. You stood and smiled. 

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it, I promise.” The second part is more direct to the good Doctor. Your smile seemed to lighten the mood of the room. John also stood to shake your hand again. 

“I’ll leave you my contact details so someone can let me know as soon as you’re on the case.” You began rummaging through your pockets for a paper and pen. Coming up with nothing, Sherlock held out just what you were looking for from the desk on the other side of the room.

“Ah, thank you.” Your hands gently brushed over his as you took them from him. In a moment, you locked eyes for the third time since meeting him. His deep blue-greens searched your shining eyes for something he couldn’t place. All the while, you looked back in admiration and curiosity. But it was you this time to break the gaze to write your initials and number. Sherlock didn’t stop staring, however, and John caught on.

The army doctor stared between the two of you for a moment. Shrugging, he brushed off another feeling there was something he was missing. 

You gave Sherlock your details and once more adorned your hat and sunglasses as you padded for the apartment’s exit.

Before you could be turned down again, you remarked. “Don’t forget, not even forensics can know that She isn’t Their Lady of the Arts.”

“How demanding,” Sherlock muttered.

“You’re not very observant for a detective Mr. Holmes” you taunted, taking your last steps toward the door.

“And you withhold a lot of details for a writer, Ms. {y/l/n}” He retaliated.

You took hold of the door frame and peered back into the room from behind your {F/c} shades.

“Well then it must have been a case worth taking.” and with that, you closed the door behind you and departed from Baker street. 

Sherlock stared after the door mulling through his thoughts during your brief encounter. 

“What could she possibly mean by that” his statement was cut short as he looked at the what you had left on the paper. Immediately he recognized it. It was Mrs. Hudson’s phone number.

Perhaps this really would be a case worth taking.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and constructive criticism are most welcome!
> 
> Have a wonderful day! see you in a week or so!


	3. Moments; The Game's Afoot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its official. your case is taken. now all you have to manage is to be whisked away to solve a murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying to write with a little more color for this chapter.  
Hope you like it!  
comments and feedback are always appreciated! :D

Barely a few days after, Lestrade came knocking down Baker St.'s door. Mrs. Hudson was entertaining a guest and Sherlock had no desire to part himself from his instrument, so the door was almost literally battered down. Indeed the Chief Inspector had come asking for help on the Lady of the Arts case. There was something amiss in the autopsy.  
"Well?" Sherlock initiated.

  
"Everything was good and normal at first. Your basic celebrity suicide..."

"But...?" He enunciated the T sound to lead him on.

"Her tongue is missing."

Sherlock merely raised a brow. "Her tongue?"

Lestrade nodded. "the team has put forth the consideration of creative symbolism, Well mostly Anderson-"

Holmes scoffed. "Of course _he_ did."

"But I think you should take a look anyway. I'm not entirely sure it's suicide myself. The facts add up too... cleanly."  
At that moment, John walked down the stairs into the living room. "What's going on?" He looked between inspector Lestrade and Sherlock, who was now putting away his instrument.

"We have a case." Holmes gave Dr. Watson a knowing glance. One that the unfortunate military Doctor was oblivious to.

"So your coming?" The two residents were questioned.

"We'll get a cab and meet you there," Sherlock smirked sarcastically. With that, the Chief inspector headed out the door. At the same time. Mrs. Hudson's guest was on her way out. A pale blue scarf wrapped around her face and neck, she walked to the door alongside Lestrade. Each gave the other a curious look until the door was opened for the inspector. He nodded in thanks and shuffled off into the chilly autumn air. Following close behind, the Baker boys came tapering down the primary flight, and the door was held for them also. John gave a verbal "thanks" Barely sparing a glance to who was holding the door. But Sherlock locked eyes with the woman. It was easy to tell that it was you. He'd know those eyes anywhere. And the fact that you had been visiting Mrs. Hudson to discuss novels for the past couple days over tea didn't hurt either. It was rather obvious to the consulting detective.

You spent hours thinking and overthinking any significant part of this case you could. In all honesty, it was a little cocky to not actually leave your information with Sherlock after the ordeal of enlisting him. But there was an easy solution, the ever in awe Mrs. Hudson. She loved discussing your works and other such novels almost as much as you enjoyed the moments you could see those frigid, calculating gazes of Sherlock's directed at you. But of course, you would admit openly to neither, especially the latter. You couldn't shake that thought out of your head as you followed the great detective out of the flat complex.  
John was hailing a cab, with little avail. However, Sherlock hung back with you.

"So, the game's afoot then, huh?" Your words muffled from under your cozy scarf. A feeble attempt to get another look from him as well as a confirmation on the current situation.

"If you are referring to the case, yes." He didn't turn but stood directly next to you. It was almost as if you could feel his warmth as a chill fall breeze blew by. "However, I must inform you that this may be more gruesome than you had anticipated." this struck you worried, and you flinched.

"Its nothing you need fret about. She's only missing her tongue." He declared casually. This only set you all the more on edge, causing you to bite your own tongue in response. "By the way, how on earth did you manage to switch your DNA in the government's database? is being a creative influence really that swaying?"

You only tilted your head, obliviously. "_what?_"

With an annoyed sigh, he continued. "Inspector Lestrade didn't bear any mention of how the DNA wasn't an exact replica. Seeing as it isn't actually you, well. I thought your divinely creative sway had something to do with the records being, just so."

"I-... No, it isn't."

Finally, he could pick up on something about you. You were hiding something. Maybe something big. But his sense of your tells was still rendered ineffective by something he couldn't place. Before he could put much thought into it, A cabbie pulled up to the curb. John called him over. Assessing that it was you that had been there the whole time, the military doctor finally caught hold of the circumstances. Sherlock took a few steps only to turn to you and suggest. "I could use some expertise on the situation." it took him a moment to collect his thoughts into words.

"a second opinion from an inside source would get this done _So_ much faster."

  
You couldn't help a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth from behind the scarf. Even though it was about 'your' death. His subtle way of telling you to tag along was well received, and, if you were being completely honest, a little adorable. In the 'I won't admit it, but I need you' kind of way.  
You nodded and followed shortly behind him. Jumping in the taxi between him and John. And that was it.

You were off to solve another murder.

...

Your murder.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback are always appreciated! :D
> 
> Next chapter, "Moments; Speechless" will be around in another week or so, so keep an eye out!


	4. Moments;Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tedious ride from baker street whisks you into telling tall tales to the inspector. And perhaps a silent battle of jealousy between yourself and one Molly Hooper. 
> 
> What will you find when you and the Baker Boys examine "your corpse"?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! this is my work in progress writing practice. comments and constructive criticism are most welcome!
> 
> Enjoy!

It was about as awkward a ride as it could get sitting between the two. Between an awkward and embarrassed Watson and an unresponsive Sherlock, the tension between you and the two was thick enough to slice. The drive was mostly spent in silence. But if it weren't for the ride there, you wouldn’t have had time to work out the exact words for the perfect cover and why you, a stranger, got to tag along with THE Sherlock Holmes. Now if anyone would believe you is an entirely new monster to battle. 

Upon arrival, Lestrade was there to guide Sherlock to the morgue to talk him through the details. But before he could even begin, he gave you a good glance and followed by a look of bewilderment. Lestrange gestured to you in a way only the oblivious inspector could and inquired of the gentlemen in the room. “Who’s this?”

John and Sherlock looked at you in a similar time and fumbled, together.

“She’s with me-”

“She’s a friend-”

With them scowling each other down, you chuckled at the two making fools of themselves. Pulling the thick scarf just under your chin, you shimmered with charisma and flawlessly corrected.

“I’m actually a friend of Mrs.Hudson, we’ve been discussing the late Lady’s works all weekend. She suggested I should come, well, forced them to take me with them. I’m a bit of a fan of hers, the Lady of the Arts I mean…She thinks I’d be worthy to help-.” You offhandedly rambled. But Lestrade lifted his hand to silence your prattling.”Alright, alright! I got it.” before he looked to the Baker St Boys for confirmation.

Sherlock was stilled, silently surprised. Still no trace of a tell yet he knew it was a lie.

John, befuddled, took the cue and weighed it before stating. “ She offered a month’s worth of rent to babysit for a few hours..” he shrugged with hands in pockets.

Lestrade nodded knowingly. “I see, no wonder they were so willing to claim you a member of the goonies. Mrs. err..?” 

Now you were enjoying this a little too much. You could be anyone. Related to the queen herself for all he knew. But the safe route was taken. Surely he hadn’t read any of your works so at least he wouldn’t catch on when you told him “Shabelle is fine.” He shook your hand, grinning, before observing the three of you and turning to carry on. “A fresh knowledgeable perspective might actually solve this case faster, Miss Shabelle” he called, tapering down the hall. You gave the boys a hearty smile. Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically before you hustled after the DI. Hudson followed suit, But Sherlock lingered a moment staring after you. Such dirty undertones on one appearing so high and light. What mischief you could sew, right under their noses. Nothing thus far made sense. It was exactly what he was looking for. A dangerous game. And so he paced after, watching your form shuffle down the halls after the inspector to keep the facade 

You sped up your pace, to tuck away some anxieties. It was one thing to keep secrets, it was another to lie to the police, despite how much they lie to the public. It was nerve-wracking. But the nerves empowered an energetic push forward. You had caught up, perked up, and kept up the lie by imploring “So what happened? It wasn’t a drugged up suicide, was it? she didn’t seem the type to.. Ya’know. dose.” 

“We did find an extreme amount of chemicals in her body, but no I don't think it was what the media would have you believe as an overdose. I’ll explain more when the gents catch up.”

He looked at her, giving her a good look over. “You look a bit like her, well what’s left of her anyway.” without a beat of pause you give him a curious glare. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Comparing a woman to a corpse?”

Lestrade sputtered “Well…” and “Err..uh..” until they arrived outside the morgue. She smirked at his reaction. “No, it's fine. I got that a lot when she was living. It's the face structure I think, And in all honesty, I do follow her makeup style to a T. She was amazing with any kind of color and brush. I wish I could’ve met her.” You had hopped the starry-eyed fan covered something. As you looked longingly into the distance. Good lord, this felt conceited.

“A little odd innit?”

“Oh, I know! Not even her closest fans could see this coming. But the last piece is a spectacular headline.” you shake your head, a solemn smile etching the corners of your lying lips.

“I meant your similarities” the unease finally set in after that remark. You looked on with faux, believable confusion, but by this time John had come to save you from your tall tale. Sherlock wasn’t far behind. When the slowpokes caught up Lestrade you all into the morgue where Molly was waiting with the tongueless corpse. 

You feigned squeamish behaviors for a few moments. Sherlock inspected the body with Watson giving the odd comment. Though faking most of it, she was someone you were close to and despite suppressing a feeling of discomfort, swept your eyes away from the corpse touching. You, in turn, found Molly staring daggers at you, with pointed notes of jealousy. 

Lestrade nosed into the observation. “Well?” 

It kicked Sherlock into detective mode and he began to rattle off his findings.

“The needle points and bloodshot eyes observe like an overdose. Tying into the note of puffiness around the eyes from excessive emotion. But the state of the surrounding flesh adheres to the needles being injected after death. If it was suicidal, the victim would have to be almost sociopathic to so cleanly insert the needles. Same with the lack of tongue, the immense lack of blood clean cut-

“post mortem.” You started cutting him off. He looked your way waiting for you to continue. Another oddity you didn’t expect. A kindness perhaps? “If any or all of her injuries are post mortem, how did she die…?”

Watson chimed, “It's all rather organized.” 

“Too neat.” DI Lestrade reiterated. 

Molly walked over to Sherlock with a chart of varying symptoms. Leaning in close, was it you now that was exhibiting jealousy? 

“An awful lot of these symptoms look like A mix of chemical compounds the highest mix related the symptoms to heroin,” Molly explained. Sherlock snatched the clipboard from her. “No.”

“No?” Lestrade Parroted.

“Too many other compounds, Her blood would’ve been chemical soup before she died.”

“A cocktail isn’t good until its mixed…” You muttered. Odd and slightly disturbed glances were thrown your way from every direction of the room.

“A quote from one of her stories. Not about murder though.”

“Now why would someone cut out her tongue in the first place?” Watson interjected, focus back on the gaping mouth of the victim. “it's almost as if they were trying to make a corpse-...” He trailed his sentence.

Sherlock glanced your way. Like he could read your mind, knowing what you were going to say. Watching the word form on your lips.

.

The word fell softly from your mouth and subconsciously you raised both hands to your face. 

.

“Speechless.” 

  
  


***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOO sorry this took so long. Life has been utter nonsense since my last post and my creativity has been drained.  
BUT NEVER FEAR!! I will finish this if it takes a lifetime.   
New content will be soon now that I've got the creative juices flowing again. 
> 
> And as for the grammar and stuff, I'm getting better I swear. XD 
> 
> And as always kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome and widely encouraged.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> comments and constructive criticism are most welcome!
> 
> Updates for now are bi-weekly. and I can't confirm or deny weather I go back and fix chapters I don't like.


End file.
